


Little Clown, Troubling Clown.

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck, Sicklekind, sober!Gamzee, tw: self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee tries to make his ammends to the dead after his sober rampage, but Karkat ruins his plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Clown, Troubling Clown.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Self-harm, self-loathing.
> 
> So glad to see you well  
> Overcome and completely silent now  
> With heaven's help  
> You cast your demons out  
> And not to pull your halo down  
> Around your neck and tug you off your cloud  
> But I'm more than just a little curious  
> How you're planning to go about  
> Making your amends to the dead  
> To the dead
> 
> Recall the deeds as if  
> They're all someone else's  
> Atrocious stories  
> Now you stand reborn before us all  
> So glad to see you well

It was there. Right in sight. Glistening under the cold, harsh light of the Alternian moon. Gamzee’s mouth was dry, his throat tight with longing. Karkat’s sicklekind was within his reach, barely a foot away. 

This was Gamzee’s chance to make his amends to the dead.

The mirror before him served only as a reminder to the deeds he’d performed sober, slaughtering his friends mercilessly as the ‘high subjugulator’. The highblood shook his head furiously, unkempt raven hair flying about his face. His right eye no longer worked properly, and he found it difficult to breathe through his left nostril on occasion. 

This was the effect of the three wicked scars that were drawn across his face, the work of his own hand and Nepeta’s clawkind. The reminder, every time he saw his reflection, of what he’d done. He wore more juggalo makeup now than ever, in a futile attempt to cover the nasty gouges in his once handsome face. To no avail, the mirror before him taunted. He was a monster.

But Gamzee’s chance was so close. He would amend his wrongdoings in one apology, a sacrifice to the mirthful messiahs and his deceased friends. With a trembling hand, he reached out and wrapped his fingers securely around the hilt of the scythe. He lifted it to his face, examining it in the dim light streaming through the window.

It was beautiful.

To Gamzee, Karkat’s sicklekind represented everything he never had been; brave, loyal, judicial. Gamzee was everything but those three terms. To Gamzee, he himself represented betrayal, a monster, something to fear. All because the mirthful messiahs got all up in his head, and he ran out of sopor slime. 

The hilt of Karkat’s sicklekind was cold as he turned the blade and directed it at his own jugular. His eyes fluttered closed, casting him into a dark paradise involving only his own trial. Swallowing dryly, Gamzee slowly increased the pressure of the blade against his skin, feeling the flesh give way to the sicklekind. 

The indigo of his blood bubbled up along the canyon formed by the blade of the scythe, warm against his fingertips. He felt a feeling of calm, the messiahs pausing in their constant drone of guilt as pain washed over him. 

“Gamzee!” 

He paused.

The moment had been interrupted, his chance gone. 

“Yeah, Karbro?” He replied, speaking against the blade and causing more blood to stream down his neck. 

Karkat’s hand was on his, pulling the scythe down and away. Gamzee’s fingers went limp and his arm sagged against his side, lips parting slightly. 

“Gamzee...” Karkat whispered, voice chalk-full of pain. “Gamzee, please talk to me.”

Gamzee simply shook his head, sinking into the computer chair behind him. “I can’t get all up and do this anymore, Karbro. I...Equius and Tavbro and Nepeta...” He trailed off, voice cracking. 

A towel was pressed to Gamzee’s neck, and Karkat’s free hand found it’s way into Gamzee’s hair, holding the other troll’s head still as he murmured sweet nothings, trying to calm the other. By the time the blood stopped it’s sickly sweet flow, Gamzee was drifting on and off to sleep, held securely in Karkat’s arms in the smaller troll’s pod.

“Little clown, darling clown, why do you stay so upset? Relax now, I just want to say, little clown, darling clown, it’s time to let go of all that, it’s time to play. Hush now my Gamzee, it’s alright, my little clown it’s going to be okay...” Karkat whisper-sang, rocking Gamzee back and forth lovingly. 

The taller, scarred troll, simply lay there, humming along weakly and burying his face in Karkat’s side. “I know, brother. I know...”


End file.
